I premise this isn't a proper myTake, but it's more of an impotent outburst I have to put down somewhere. I can't tell this directly to my girlfriend because she's dealing with enough crap already. I can't give this directly to the intended recipient as she'll probably overreact or just brush it off like she did with everything I told her.
So here we go and I ask you in advance to please forgive me for this.
Dear Mom (gah, it feels strange to even call you that way)
I know you won't be reading this and I honestly prefer for it to be that way.
So, after months of radio silence, you found it proper to appear out of nowhere to complain about the fact that I haven't told you a thing about my new girlfriend, with whom for irony of fate you share the same first name. Don't you wonder why?
When I presented you my ex girlfriend, you turned your nose up because of her surname. Because the sweater she was wearing was too skin-tight (how can a sweater even be skin-tight?). Because she was raised by a single mother and so this was "problematic".
Oh boy, this one sure is funny.
A single mother raises a daughter, and that's problematic.
But you, with your number of husbands and lovers to your side, haven't been capable of raising not even one of your three children. You keep using the excuse you were too young ("But I was just 16 when I had your sister, and I was just 21 when I had you"), but you always had plenty of time and money coming in and instead of staying with us you just went on living your adventure through the world. Of course, you were and still are young and beautiful, so why waste that by raising your children, eh? Just drop them to various family members and go on your merry way.
Sure, you have been slightly - just a little - better than our father who just up and made himself another family. At least you stuck around in the Holidays.
Still, you deliberately absented yourself from my life only to periodically come back, playing house for a while and then going away again. The moment playing mother got too tiresome, you up and left.
And now that I'm doing well enough, you think you have the right to barge in to mess around with my life and cause more troubles. As if I didn't have enough problems to deal with.
When I do state my reasons pacately and politely, you just love playing the injured Bambi's mother and ask me why I have to be so mean when you just wants to be helpful, that I keep throwing your "honest mistakes" back in your face, that I'm being "problematic", etc.
You are just like my sister on that, this must be some trait that runs in the women of our family. And to think you can't stand each other! She's probably the only you left something of yourself. Apparently you both are like a battery - two negative poles repulse each other.
And not to play victim, but of us three I am the one you seemed to like playing the most - raising my expectations and hopes, just to let them fall down. Call for me to run in your open arms, just to step out of the way and make me slip in the mud.
Perhaps it's because I'm the only male son you have, and you don't know how to deal with men you can't butter up with sweet words and an abundant cleavage? Perhaps it's because I'm ugly and short and not tall and beautiful like you? Or perhaps because I resemble the man that you love and hate the most?
Really, I don't know. Answer if you can or want to.
You want to meet my new girlfriend, your homonym so to say. Fine.
Maybe the fact that she has a "good sounding" surname, got raised in a "normal" family and dresses "properly" won't make you turn your nose away.
But after that, we return to the level of courtesy and distance we had before. Unless you are really that intent in mending our relationship, but demonstrate it with facts and not empty words.
Do show that if the occasion arises, I can count on you if I come to you, instead of packing your baggage because "there's something you can't miss".
Because I tell you, not without some sadness that you missed a lot of stuff you "couldn't have missed", and by the way you try to reach to us, to me, to my sisters, it shows you know it.
Maybe one day I'll find the gall to tell you those things for real.
Maybe then you'll stop, even just for a moment, to be the fascinating, perfumed and regal diva you put yourself to be; and will be the patient and lovely mother you so rarely showed you are.
Until then, for what's it's worth
I love you Mom